The air tightened.
Something subtle shifted in the room.
Bratches narrowed his eyes, his voice cool and measured, carrying a hint of scrutiny that was difficult to read. "Are you implying that I'm old?"
Brown's heart lurched. Instinctively, he prepared to smooth things over, barely sparing Marchionne a glance.
Kai did not look away.
He met Bratches' gaze head-on, shrugged lightly, and replied with calm indifference. "In a paddock this small, being too young or too old can both feel… inconvenient. No wonder people say a driver's career is short. Fernando must be exhausted."
Brown froze.
The room blinked collectively.
Kai never answered the question directly. Instead, he reminded them that age had always been the blade hanging over his own head, then casually redirected the punchline toward the paddock's living fossil.
The effect landed.
Softly.
Too softly.
A laugh broke the silence.
Brown turned, stunned. It was Marchionne.
He was smiling openly now. "Sean, you can put that routine away. The generation born after the millennium doesn't care."
That only made it worse.
Bratches' expression relaxed completely. He smiled, broad and unguarded, turning toward Marchionne. "Sergio, you really did strike gold this time."
Marchionne replied evenly, "Which is why you all showed up so quickly."
Bratches chuckled. "Don't pretend you didn't run the same calculations."
Marchionne lifted his chin. "Are you thanking Ferrari for contributing to the sport? No need. We have always been generous."
Bratches raised a brow. "So that's a yes?"
"No," Marchionne said calmly. "That's me reminding you not to forget us when you divide the cake."
The exchange crackled with sparks.
Not even Brown or Reece could find room to interject. Before anyone could react, the clash was already over. Bratches turned back to Kai, his expression once again unreadable.
But there was something new in his eyes. Appreciation.
"I hear Jean Todt picked you up off the streets of Rome."
Kai smiled. "So this is the official origin story? Have we agreed to use that opening?"
The atmosphere lightened.
Kai did not stay long. Barely ten minutes later, Marchionne dismissed him under the pretense of simulator testing.
He arrived confused.
He left just as confused.
Kai had theories, but these men spoke in riddles. Without enough pieces, there was no way to see the full picture.
Before he could walk away, a voice called out behind him.
"Kai!"
Brown grinned, teeth flashing. "Heading to the simulator? Mind giving me a tour?"
He raised both hands theatrically. "I would hate to wander into a restricted area and get tossed out by security. But if you extend a warm invitation, I wouldn't mind a little adventure."
Kai laughed. "Like Indiana Jones?"
He added, "Honestly, Mr. Brown, you probably know Maranello better than I do. I get lost here all the time."
Brown dropped his smile. "Mr. Brown already? Drawing lines now?"
He paused, then patted Kai's shoulder. "I owe you an apology. I hesitated. I misread the moment. I missed you."
Kai blinked, genuinely surprised.
Brown's eyes dimmed slightly. It did not look like an act. He inhaled, smiled again. "But this is Ferrari. Given the choice, I would pick Ferrari every time."
He met Kai's eyes. "So don't miss your chance."
Then, more quietly, "James and Sean too. They are opportunities. Keys to doors that don't open often."
"The key's in your hands," Brown said. "Use it. Let us ride the wave with you. Like Indiana Jones."
He slapped Kai's shoulder hard.
Kai winced. "Ah."
Brown panicked.
Then Kai straightened, brushed imaginary dust off his jacket, and tilted his head, clearly puzzled by how little force there had been.
Brown stared. "You little bastard."
That evening, Nicholas was waiting.
His expression said everything. Thoughts racing. Calculations stacking.
He did not waste time.
"Netflix wants to make a documentary about you."
Everything clicked.
Kai lifted his chin slightly. "That explains it."
Nicholas frowned. "You already knew?"
"Zack hinted at it," Kai replied. "But why Netflix? I get the others."
Nicholas smiled faintly. "Because they chase heat. Wherever attention goes, they follow."
"Right now," he added, "you're the most desirable asset in the paddock."
He paused.
"But as your agent, my advice is restraint. Too much of anything backfires."
Adoration like this was intoxicating.
For Nicholas, it was the kind of moment agents dream of. Standing at the axis of global attention, holding leverage that could reshape careers.
And yet.
The hotter the wave, the colder the judgment had to be.
Motorsport chewed up stars every generation.
Timing. Environment. Alignment. Miss one, and the myth collapsed.
Kai had no F1 results yet.
GP3 dominance meant nothing here. Ferrari's red carried no guarantees. Without proof on track, everything else was foam.
Pop it, and it vanished.
If they mistook hype for substance, the backlash could destroy him.
Nicholas believed Kai could be special. He did not want him burned alive by premature worship.
"CCTV gives authority," Nicholas said. "It establishes legitimacy."
"But they lack creative freedom. Ferrari would want control. If Ferrari refuses, the story turns generic."
"Shanghai Sports is different. Their proposal centers on you. They want reality."
"Netflix has reach. Global reach."
"But they also want heroes. Fast ones. Disposable ones."
"So we choose one," Nicholas said. "Quality over quantity. Mystery over saturation."
He listed names. Jordan. Federer. Messi. Woods.
"F1 had Schumacher. Hamilton is great, but he does not transcend the machine."
Kai laughed. "Weren't you just telling me not to pile on pressure?"
Nicholas smiled ruefully.
Kai grew thoughtful. "Today wasn't really about me, was it."
Nicholas nodded. "No."
He explained. Netflix. F1. Reece. Bratches. Red Bull. McLaren. The sport trying to reinvent itself for a new era.
Kai listened.
Then he said calmly, "So I'm the bonus item."
Nicholas laughed. "A very expensive one."
The mood eased.
Still, Kai remained measured. "What if I get dropped after three races?"
Nicholas laughed. Then stopped when he saw Kai's face.
"You trust yourself," Kai said. "But the risk isn't us."
Silence.
Finally, Kai looked at the sky. "The sunset's nice. Tomorrow should be good for driving."
Nicholas stared.
Then Kai continued, "What if we don't choose?"
"What if CCTV and Shanghai Sports work together?"
Nicholas froze.
The idea hit like thunder.
Kai had thought it through.
One team. One project. Done right.
CCTV handles resources and access. Shanghai Sports shapes the story.
One voice. One image. One first impression.
Not ten mediocre pieces. One that mattered.
Nicholas whispered, "Insane."
Wang Yang called it absurd.
Shi Yiying called it impossible.
Nicholas only smiled. Because now he was certain.
Kai was not following the path. He was rewriting it.
The chosen one had arrived. And this time, the timing was perfect.